


We Don't Need to Know the Way Home

by Green



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Killjoys, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Teen Wolf Crossover Big Bang, Werewolf Mates, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2020. Better Living Industries has Battery City in a chokehold. Stiles is a teenager doing his best to help people out of the city, just like his mom did before him. But when BLI captures werewolves and starts destroying them, Stiles knows he has to do something more.</p><p>A.K.A. werewolves in the Zones!</p><p>(You don't have to be familiar with the Danger Days 'verse to read the story)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Need to Know the Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to majoline to listening to me kvetch, omens for cheerleading, and reddwarfer for beta reading!
> 
> I was lucky to get awesome graphics for this story, thanks to Fleete. You can see everything [here in the art master post!](http://fleete.livejournal.com/36932.html)

Battery City, CA  
2020

 

A week before he's rescued, Derek feels the bond between himself and his Alpha snap. He's heard her scream in pain for hours, unable to get to her, and then suddenly she's gone. His sister. Laura.

She's dead and he howls his grief until they come for him a few hours later.

He wants to fight them, but they hit him with electricity before he can do more than snap. He knows he's the Alpha now, that Laura's power has passed to him, but he can't access the power because of the voltage running through him.

They keep him in his human form for about an hour, then let him shift to Beta. They keep the juice on him, just enough to keep him from shifting into his new Alpha form. Then comes more pain as he's forced to shift back and forth between human and Beta. 

The experiment isn't even as painful or as torturous as usual. Still, by the time they are done with him he's weak and tired. They take him to his white-walled cell and leave him there.

He misses Laura, but he refuses to cry. He's lost his entire family now, except Peter. His uncle is out in the Zones somewhere, presumably an Omega. He might as well be dead. He's heard there are Argents in the Zones, and they've probably already dealt with him.

Derek just feels numb now. Like Better Living Industries has taken all his nerve endings away along with his emotions.

* * *

Stiles watches the footage twice before he throws up.

Scott looks at him anxiously as Stiles retches into the trash. "Stiles, you have to."

"Getting people out of the city is one thing," Stiles says when he gets his breath back. He reaches for his can of BLI soda and swishes his mouth with the blah-tasting beverage. "I've never broken into one of these facilities before. This is what happened to my mom. She broke in and they _killed_ her."

"I'll help you," Scott says stubbornly, as if that will make it better.

"Scott-"

"He's maybe the only Alpha left in Battery City, now," Scott says. "BLI has killed the rest."

Stiles frowns. Scott is sort of an Alpha, only without Alpha powers. His mom and Stiles are his pack, even though they're humans.

"He can make new wolves," Scott says.

"I know, but what-"

"We're almost extinct. BLI keeps catching us, experimenting on us, _killing_ us," Scott explains.

Genocide isn't a fun topic. Stiles looks at where he's paused the footage. The decrypted files say the Alpha's name is Derek Hale. That his entire family had been caught and exterminated like roaches. Stiles wonders if he still has the will to live, or if BLI has taken that, too.

"Okay. Just let me get into my dad's files and see what I can figure out," Stiles says with a sigh. His mother died for this. It's worth something.

* * *

There are sounds outside his cell, footsteps and a few beeps, and then the door is opening. Derek is ready for them this time. He shifts into his Alpha form, jumps off the side wall, and pounces on the first person who enters his cell.

"Oof," is expected. But then comes, "Ow!"

A plaintive 'Ow' is not the reaction he was expecting. Derek tilts his head and looks down at the kid dressed like facility staff. Sniffs his neck. He smells like BLI medication, an unfamiliar wolf, and Dracs. Under that, though, is spice and lemon and something sweet. His heart is pounding.

"Nice wolfy," he kid croaks out. 

Derek growls.

"Derek Hale? I'm Stiles, I'm here to, um, break you out," the kid says. He looks fearful but also full of steely determination

Derek shifts back into human form and glares down at the kid. Stiles. "What."

"Oh god, a hot naked werewolf body was not in the plan," Stiles babbles, closing his eyes. Then he says, "Clothes! I brought you clothes." 

Derek frowns at him but lets him up.

"Hurry up and get dressed," Stiles hisses, handing him a white uniform that looks sickeningly familiar. "I know, but you'll fit in, okay?"

Derek gets dressed and ignores the way the kid keeps looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "Do you have a gun for me?"

Stiles laughs. "Dude, I don't even have a gun for _me_. This is a stealth mission, no shootouts allowed."

Oddly enough, they get out without a hitch. Apparently Stiles has planned things out near perfectly, and there's a Jeep waiting for them around the back of the facility. The Jeep is BLI white, but somehow it manages to look rebellious anyway.

"Turn around, let me see your neck," Stiles says, and he's suddenly brandishing what looks like a boxcutter. 

"Excuse me," Derek says flatly.

"BLI implanted you with a RFID. I saw your file, I know where it is, let me get it out so they can't track us down," Stiles says, his hand slightly cool on Derek's neck.

"How did they get it to stay with my healing?" Derek asks.

"It's subcutaneous, not injected or anything," Stiles says. "They did it while you were knocked out and your skin just healed right over it."

"Get it out, then," Derek says, turning his neck and bowing his head. 

"Okay. Just. Hold still for me," Stiles says, sounding nervous. Derek feels the slice, then blood-slick fingers rubbing over the wound as he searches for the implant.

"Hurry or I'll heal," Derek says.

"I know, I know. Okay, got it," Stiles says. Derek turns and looks, sees the tiny black and clear implant smeared with his blood.

"I didn't know it was there," Derek says.

Stiles grins. "That's what you've got me for." He throws it out into the parking lot, grabs some paper napkins out of the glove compartment, and wipes his fingers and the back of Derek's neck. Then he starts the Jeep and they're leaving the facility far behind.

"Where are you taking me?" Derek asks.

"Scott knows someone who offered up an empty apartment. So, technically I guess we can call it a safe house." Stiles smiles over at him, and Derek doesn't know what to think.

"They killed my sister," Derek says, then shuts his mouth and looks away.

Stiles clears his throat and Derek looks at him again. His face does a funny thing that's a cross between guilt and sympathy. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Who's Scott?" Derek asks.

"My best friend. He's a werewolf, too. He's the one who convinced me to go for broke and get you out of there," Stiles says. He's looking ahead, eyes on the road now.

"He should run," Derek says. "They'll find him eventually."

Stiles nods. "I've been trying to convince him to do that for months now."

"What happens to me now? I can't stay in the safe house indefinitely," Derek says.

"We smuggle you out of the city," Stiles says. "It's kinda what I do. Usually it's artists and musicians I'm getting out, though. I've never done a werewolf before."

Derek manages a smirk because he wants to see if Stiles will blush again. He's pretty when he blushes.

"Geez, I did not mean that how it sounded," Stiles stammers out, and there's that blush. His embarrassment smells sweet. He looks at Derek again, narrowing his eyes. "Which you know, you're just being a gigantic dickface. Great."

Derek shrugs and grins. The wind is in his hair and his face, and it feels almost like freedom.

Then the enormity of the past few months hits him again and he remembers every loss. His parents, his cousins, his siblings. Laura, especially, the last link to his pack. He wishes he was alone so he could mourn them properly. He wishes he could bury them with memorial wolfsbane, the way his parents taught him.

Stiles talks. Maybe it's because he knows Derek feels like shit and needs the distraction, or maybe just because it's what he does. "So we get you a car, that's the first order of business. False papers aren't that hard, not when you're me. My dad's stuff is pretty foolproof. He's um, he's a Draculoid, but he's not completely BLI's man. I mean, he doesn't know about what I've been doing, but... I don't know. I think if he knew he'd want to help. But I can't let him put himself in danger like that, you know?"

Derek understands family, and doing anything to protect them. He nods.

"So we get your papers and then you can pass out of the city," Stiles says. "Then... well, you're pretty much on your own. Do you know anyone in the Zones?"

"Maybe, if he's still alive," Derek says.

"I've only got one contact in the Zones, and that's Show Pony," Stiles says, rubbing at his eyes. "I haven't actually talked to him in about a month, so I don't know if he can help."

"You're tired," Derek says. 

"No shit, I just spent four days and nights hatching a plan to save your werewolfy ass," Stiles grumps.

"I owe you," Derek says gruffly.

But Stiles just waves his hand. "Don't be stupid. You don't owe me anything."

He pulls up in front of a smallish older building (small for Battery City, older as in pre-War. This is oldschool LA all over). He smiles a little sadly at the building's facade. "It's scheduled for demolition next month, but for now it makes a pretty good hideout."

Derek finds himself looking at Stiles more than the building. 

"What?" Stiles asks. 

Derek shrugs, feeling uncomfortably attracted. Not sexually, he's in no shape for that, but mentally? Yeah. He wants to know more about this kid who saves werewolves and artists and musicians. Whose father is a Drac, but who goes against BLI on a regular basis.

Stiles pulls out a plastic key card, the kind they had before BLI's multipurpose IDs. "Scott's supposed to meet us here in about an hour with food." 

The building's elevator is broken, and so they trudge up five flights of stairs to reach the right apartment. By the time they get there, Derek is panting from exertion. Stiles doesn't seem winded at all.

"You need to rest and heal," Stiles says, watching Derek closely.

"I'll wait until after I eat," Derek says. He doesn't need some kid telling him what he needs, no matter how interesting Stiles is.

"Sure thing," Stiles says, and flops down on the old sofa himself. "I think I'll just rest my eyes."

* * *

Stiles wakes when he hears Derek's growl. He hops up, gives Derek a look, and goes over to look out the peephole. It's Scott, of course, and Stiles sighs with relief.

Derek and Scott don't exactly bond right away. Derek is distrustful (probably a werewolf thing) and Scott seems worried that Derek's too grief-stricken to keep it together.

Scott pulls Stiles aside and asks, "Are you sure you're good to stay here tonight? He's been through a lot. You don't know how stable he is."

Stiles frowns. "He's not okay, but that's kinda expected, you know? I'm not afraid he's gonna rip my throat out or anything. Don't be such a worrywolf." He knows Derek can hear them, is probably plotting to kill Scott for implying that he's crazy. Stiles shakes his head. "Thanks for the food, but you can go home. I'm good for now."

"Sure?" Scott asks. 

"Yeah, it's almost curfew," Stiles says. "The last thing you need is to be picked up by the Dracs."

Scott gets an even more worried look on his face and nods. "Okay. Thanks for getting him out and everything, though. I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful."

"I didn't do it for you. Go," Stiles says.

After Scott leaves and Derek has finished scarfing down a mound of tacos, Stiles sits beside him.

"He doesn't have a pack," Derek says.

"His mom and me are like his pack," Stiles says quietly. "It keeps him from going Omega."

"I don't have a pack," Derek says. There's so much pain behind the words that Stiles wants to hug him. He would, if he was into hugging werewolves he'd only known a few hours.

"You're an Alpha," Stiles says. "You can start over in the Zones. Find a new pack."

"You mean I should build one. Give people the bite," Derek says. Stiles can't tell what that tone of voice means. It's flat, no inflection at all.

"You said it," Stiles says. "I don't know that much about packs. _Scott_ doesn't know that much about packs."

"When was he bitten?" Derek asks.

"Last summer," Stiles answers. "We never found his Alpha. He was a rogue, just attacked Scott one night."

"BLI probably put the Alpha down. Once they were finished playing with him," Derek says darkly.

"I read your file," Stiles says, and winces. It's so much personal information that he shouldn't know. 

"Did you read about how they treated us?" Derek asks, a growl in his voice. "How they tortured us?"

Stiles closes his eyes and feels horrible. He should have found out about Derek and his sister before she was killed. He could have saved her, and saved Derek from that much more pain.

"Why do you smell like guilt?" Derek asks, pushing Stiles against the couch. Something sharp sticks at Stiles through his shirt, and he realizes without looking that it's Derek's claws.

"I'm so sorry," Stiles says, and opens his eyes to meet Derek's red ones. "I didn't know in time. If I'd just paid more attention, I could have saved you both."

Derek's eyes slowly change from red to a natural hazel. He just stares at Stiles for a long time. 

"I'm sorry," Stiles says again. He sniffs and Derek runs his thumbs — now more human, thankfully — over his cheeks where they're wet.

"You're crying," Derek says, voice inflectionless again.

Stiles sniffles again. "Yeah, well. I'm sleep deprived."

Derek leans in, presses his forehead against Stiles's. It must be some kind of wolf thing. It feels like a thank you. "Go to bed. I'll take the couch."

Stiles would argue, but he hasn't slept in days and the bed sounds lovely.

* * *

Derek hides for five days. During that time he gets to know Stiles. Not well, because that would take longer than a few days. But well enough to know he's more than just attracted. If he believed the old myths he would have said Stiles was his mate. He doesn't believe, though, not in anything anymore. Except maybe his anger.

Besides, Stiles is sixteen. Derek's shocked when he finds out how young he is. Not just because he's had a few fleeting inappropriate thoughts, but because Stiles is, what, leading the resistance? Or rather _is_ the resistance.

"You need help to keep doing what you do," Derek tells him on the third day, when Stiles is just coming through the door, bringing… salami and provolone, by the smell of it. Something he would have had to really scour the city for. Most of the food in Bat City is bland BLI stuff.

Stiles shrugs. "I don't want anyone else in danger. And it's not like I usually do what I did with you. It's normally just smuggling people out of the city, one at a time. It doesn't take an army to do what I do."

"You're right about people being in danger. But it's a danger they would have chosen, just like you have," Derek points out.

Stiles huffs. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"I don't. Just thought I'd give you some advice," Derek says. Lies. The truth is that he doesn't want Stiles getting caught, hurt, killed. On the other hand, he really respects what Stiles does, even if he's being stupid by doing it alone.

"I don't need any advice," Stiles says. "Here, eat." He shoves a foot-long sandwich into Derek's hands.

While Derek eats, Stiles tells him more about the people he helps. Painters, sculptors, poets, novelists, musicians — anyone with a creative bone in their body, pretty much. He says he taps into video feeds, reads decrypted documents, tries to figure out how to make disappearances look coincidental so no one puts two and two together. Sometimes he's had to make hard choices. He says this with a blank face, guilt pouring off him. 

"Sometimes I can't get to them in time," he says. "I used to not know what happened, but then I figured a way into the BLI database."

Derek is dreading the answer, but he has to ask. "Where do they go?"

Stiles bites his lip, looks away. "You know those new mental health facilities? They're supposed to be cutting edge, with new therapies and the latest, best medications. But... they're big on 're-education'. Brainwashing. Mind control. The ones who don't conform go insane."

Derek sighs. " _I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness_..."

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles murmurs. "They're amazing people. I mean, they're _people_ so some of them are awesome and some of them are assholes. But the things they can do, the way they think, it's amazing. And BLI finds them so threatening that they have to try to reprogram their brains."

"What you're doing is amazing," Derek says quietly. 

Stiles blushes and looks at his hands. "I'm thinking of starting a website. Scott knows somebody who knows somebody who can get me set up, untraceable."

"What would you do with it?" Derek asks.

"I could put up video, get it out there that people are being snatched from their homes and brainwashed. I could break the story about the werewolves being tortured and killed. I could try to warn people en masse about the sweeps," Stiles says.

"Untraceable? You're sure?" Derek asks. 

Stiles nods. 

"It's not a bad idea," Derek says. He hates to say it, because everything Stiles does puts him in more danger. "But I still think you should get help. Just two or three people at first, maybe. There's strength in numbers."

"Like a pack," Stiles says, smiling a little. "Only I'm not an Alpha. And no one would want to listen to what a kid has to say, anyway."

"I would listen to you," Derek says. Stiles lifts his head and they lock eyes. Heat pools in Derek's stomach. It's look away or kiss the kid, and Derek chooses to drop his eyes.

"Thanks," Stiles says softly. He clears his throat. "Has Scott asked to be in your pack?"

Derek raises his eyebrows. "He hasn't mentioned it. Why, has he said he wants that?"

Stiles nods like he's hesitant to share, like it's a secret. 

"He'd have to leave the city," Derek says.

"He knows," Stiles says. "I've finally talked him into going. It's not safe for him here. Sooner or later BLI will find out about him."

"But he's not willing to go into the Zones by himself," Derek says.

Stiles snorts. "Do you blame him?"

"No. This is good," Derek says. "It's good for me as much as it's good for him. I don't want to go out there alone, either."

"It can't be that bad in the Zones," Stiles says. "Show Pony told me they even have concerts. They sent me some music, said it was something called MGMK. I've never heard anything like it before."

"Ten years ago, music was everywhere. Before it was regulated I went to a couple of shows with my sister. She liked pop-punk," Derek says.

"My mom used to sing to me. She had a good voice," Stiles says. Derek can smell old grief there. "She'd whisper to me that we had to keep it a secret, and not to sing in front of anyone."

Derek nods. "What kind of songs?"

Stiles shrugs. "I don't know, just … songs. I never thought about what kind they were. There was this one, that went, um..." He flushes but starts to sing, " _Give me a whisper and give me a sigh, give me a kiss before you tell me goodbye, don't you take it so hard now, and please don't take it so bad, I'll still be thinking of you and the times we had..._ I think she knew she'd die, you know? I haven't tried to sing that since she was killed." He looks torn, like the memories are terrible and beautiful at the same time. Derek knows from experience how that can be true.

"It's beautiful," Derek says. 

"She... _she_ was beautiful," Stiles says, and Derek wishes he had the right to put his arms around him. He puts a hand on Stiles's shoulder instead. Stiles leans his head over so his cheek is resting on the back of Derek's hand.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that.

* * *

"I wish I could come with you," Stiles mumbles as Derek opens the door to the rented Camaro and throws his one meager bag inside.

Of course Derek hears Stiles's mumbling confession. He faces Stiles and his eyes flash red. "You don't mean that. You've got a life here, your dad, this work you've been doing. It's important."

"I do," Stiles confesses quietly. "I do mean it. I'd go, if you wanted me to."

The look on Derek's face is hard to understand, and Stiles wishes they'd had more time, so that he could learn to decipher Derek's facial expressions. Derek says, "Your dad needs you here."

Stiles thinks that if they'd had more time, he could have fallen in love with Derek. He doesn't answer, just looks at him steadily until his vision blurs.

" _Stiles_ ," Derek says, moving in closer to him.

"Do I get a hug goodbye, at least?" Stiles asks lightly.

Derek looks like he wants to say something more, but then he wraps his arms around Stiles and holds him close. Stiles sighs and tucks his face into Derek's neck, breathing him in like he's the werewolf. "I won't forget you," Derek says, his voice rumbling.

"That's because I'm pretty damned unforgettable," Stiles jokes quietly.

Derek pulls back and nods. Stiles holds himself back from wrapping around Derek again.

"I won't forget you, either," Stiles says.

* * *

Battery City, CA  
2022

 

"You know better than this, Stiles. I know you do," Dad is saying. Stiles is looking around his room numbly while he holds an empty duffel.

"I didn’t think they’d find me," Stiles says. He looks at the laptop sitting on his desk and sighs.

"I just don't understand what possessed you to go against them," his father says. "After what happened to your mom..."

Stiles looks at him then, incredulous. "Do you really not know? They're monsters."

His dad winces. "Not all of them. I'm not."

"You knew what they were doing," Stiles says. "You could have helped people, but instead you hid behind your badge and-"

"I did what I had to do to keep you safe!" his dad yells. "I had to think about _you_. They already took one parent from you. What would have happened to you if they took me off to one of their facilities? Or worse?"

"Do you have any idea how long I've been doing this?" Stiles asks. "Since I was _fifteen_ , Dad. I knew the risks but I did it anyway because it was the right thing."

"You haven't... _How_?" his dad asks.

"I used your passwords, learned how to cover my tracks," Stiles says. He isn't bragging, he's much too tired and angry for that. And scared, too. He doesn't know what he's going to do next. "When a raid was scheduled, I'd warn them ahead of time. I helped people get out of the city, into the Zones."

"Can you get out safely?" his dad asks.

Stiles nods shortly. "I've had an ID ready just in case."

His dad closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'll hold them back if they come here. Give them false information or..."

"It's okay," Stiles says, moving to hug him. He's still angry with him, but he loves him. He's his _dad_.

"It really isn't," his dad mutters against his temple.

"Did you watch my webcasts?" Stiles asks, curious. He pulls back.

"I work for S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W; we all saw them," his dad says drily. 

Stiles quirks his lips. "What did you think?"

"That whoever was responsible was stupid or brave or both," his dad says.

"Stupidly brave, maybe?"

"Sounds like you," his dad says. 

"Are you going to be in trouble because of me?" Stiles asks.

"Probably. I can probably talk myself out of most of it, though," his dad answers.

Which is bullshit, of course. Stiles used his passwords and encryption keys for three years, plus he's already tainted by being connected to Stiles's mom.

"I'm more worried about you," his dad says.

"I've got friends in the Zones, Dad," Stiles says, hoping that's the truth. "I'll be alright." He's shaking though. Fear of the unknown is powerful.

"Hurry up and pack," his dad says. "I'll go gas up your Jeep."

Stiles bites his lip, worrying for his dad's safety. What will happen when the Dracs come? "Okay."

* * *

Through the radio connection comes a familiar voice, laced with static. "Alpha, this is Dr. Death Defying, pick up the horn if you're there, over."

Derek raises his eyebrows and saunters into the building that houses his setup. Dr. Death Defying doesn't usually have much to do with the Hale pack.

"Alpha here, over," Derek says into the old-fashioned microphone. 

"We've got a runner here fresh out of Bat City, says he knows you, over," Dr. Death Defying says.

"He knows _me_?" Derek asks. Then adds, "Over," as an afterthought. The only person he can think of from the city, the only one who's left, is-

But they can't give out real names over the radio, knowing BLI is probably listening in, so Derek can't ask or mention it.

"That's an affirmative. Knew Pup-Pup by name, too. He's coming in too hot to hold out here, over," Dr. Death Defying says. Derek knows he's especially protective of something, careful to the extreme.

"Send him out my way, then," Derek says, his heart doing a weird flip at the thought of Stiles, after all this time. "Over."

"You don't want to verify? Over," Dr. Death Defying asks. 

"Only one person from Bat City knows me and Pup," Derek says. "And he's a friend of Show Pony's if I remember right. Over."

"You're right on the spot, Alpha," Dr. Death Defying says, a chuckle in his voice. "Alright then, sending him in your direction. Over."

"I'll meet him at the halfway point around dusk. Thanks, Doc. Over and out."

Derek looks up and sees Scott in the doorway. 

"It's really him?" Scott asks.

"Sounds like it. I need you to stay here, keep everybody in line while I'm gone," Derek says.

Scott snorts. "They think your uncle's in charge when you're not here."

"But you know the truth," Derek says. Anticipation makes it easy to grin.

Scott smiles back. He's practically radiating excitement over seeing Stiles again. Derek's not that far from doing the same.

"Well, get going, then," Scott says. "Take some supplies. You staying overnight at the halfway?"

"Probably. Depends on him and if he's got a tail," Derek says.

"Put a fresh battery in your blaster, then," Scott says.

* * *

Stiles isn't sure which Zone he's in now. He pulled off Route Guano a ways back, following the crude map Show Pony drew for him, and now he's on a dusty road headed to an old campsite. He's aware of his utter aloneness. It's not safe to be out here by himself. All he has for protection is his trusty boxcutter tucked in his back pocket and his mouth.

Maybe making a few friends will keep him alive. He’s heard how dangerous it is out here; the kind of people who live in the desert can be vicious. Of course, that’s mostly BLI’s propaganda talking. Fact News reports of danger in the Zones is probably inflated. Probably.

Derek isn't vicious. Dangerous, but not evil. Stiles trusts him, feels an urge to be close to him again. It's stupid, he thinks. He knew Derek for a total of five days. Not long enough to really know him. 

_Long enough to forge a connection_ , his mind whispers.

Stiles pushes those thoughts away and focuses on another problem: he didn’t pack his BLI meds and he’s starting to feel really _weird_. He’s more scared than he can ever remember being, for one. He feels like he’s going to break down and cry or something. He’s shaky, and there’s a cold sweat breaking out all over his body. His vision is starting to go gray. 

He shouldn't be driving. 

He sees the sign, painted over the way Dr. Death Defying said it would be, and pulls onto the almost hidden trail. He does a loop with his Jeep so that he's facing the entrance. He doesn't want to get caught unawares.

He turns the ignition off. Dark is starting to come over the desert, and he knows from the night before that it’ll be a cold one. There’s no shelter and nothing but his red hoodie to keep him warm. (He’d bought the hoodie in a hidden-away thrift store, and until now only wore it at home. Color in Battery City is suspicious.)

He's got faith that Derek will show, though.

He’s shivering a half hour later when he sees headlights. They’re coming closer and Stiles gets out his boxcutter in case it isn't Derek. 

The car — a shiny Camaro that's maybe the same one from two years ago, yellow now, a wolf’s head painted in bright blue on the hood — pulls up and Stiles runs a hand over his short, sweaty hair. He’s shaking still, not just cold but shaking from withdrawal. He puts his hands on the wheel so the approaching figure won’t take him for a threat. His boxcutter is hiding beneath his thigh.

The person stops next to Stiles’s door and just looks at him. Stiles looks back.

It's Derek, two years older and looking completely different. He’s still got black hair, but now with lightning-white streaks, and he’s wearing some serious stubble. His clothes are colorful, mismatched but strangely harmonious. His leather jacket is blue and yellow to match his car. There’s a red laser pistol in a holster at his hip. 

"Hi," Stiles says, and fumbles with the door handle to get out, to get closer.

Derek opens the door from his side and Stiles nearly falls out of the Jeep. He gets to his feet and grins shakily. 

He wants to hug him, but he wraps his arms around himself instead. Tries to hold himself together.

Derek tilts his head, looks him over. "You're slamming, aren't you?" he asks.

Blinking seems to be the only answer to that question. Derek makes a noise like an irritated growl.

“You’re detoxing. Slamming down. How long have you been off that corporation shit?”

"Day and a half,” Stiles says. 

"You look like shit," Derek says, sounding worried.

"Flatterer," Stiles mumbles, rolling his eyes. The motion makes him dizzy and he pitches forward.

"Hey," Derek says when he catches him. "You're really not doing good."

"Cold, dizzy, shaky, scared to death," Stiles mutters. "Tired as hell, too."

"C'mon, we need to build a fire," Derek says, wrapping an arm around Stiles's waist. 

"I don't know anything about camping," Stiles says. 

"I'll teach you," Derek says with a smile.

Derek gets blankets, food, and fresh water out of his car. He tries teaching Stiles how to start a fire, but Stiles is shivering so hard he can barely pay attention. 

They eat warmed stew from cans. It tastes better than the BLI prepared food Stiles is used to. It has more flavor. Derek says dog food from Before tastes better than BLI cardboard.

After they eat, they lay on a blanket, Stiles closest to the fire.

"I thought about you all the time," Stiles mumbles as he's blinking tiredly. "Worried."

Derek says, "I'm fine. Go to sleep."

Stiles nods and closes his eyes.

Some time during the night, Derek moves closer to Stiles and wraps an arm around him. Stiles wakes once, feels the welcome heat, and goes back to sleep.

* * *

It's still dark when Derek hears them coming.

He shakes Stiles awake. Stiles blinks at him sleepily. Derek drags him to his feet and gives him a little push. "Run to your Jeep."

"What?" Stiles asks, confusion on his face.

"Dracs," Derek says. "They've got to be after _you_. Follow me." He fishes his keys out of his pocket and runs to the Camaro. He makes sure Stiles is in his own vehicle before he peels away. 

He floors it, then slows when it's obvious the old Jeep won't be able to keep up. So outrunning them is out. Outsmarting them, then.

He swerves off the road and takes off on a little-used and little-known trail. Behind him, Stiles follows. 

There are some scraggly trees and scrub bushes not offering much cover, but there are hills that stretch for miles. It's not all flat desert out here in the Zones, and that works to their advantage. Derek hopes Stiles trusts him enough to keep following.

Derek takes a few more turns, thankful he knows these roads as well as he does.

He checks his gas gauge and sees he's down to a quarter of a tank. Dammit. If they're ever going to break for home, it's got to be now. He hopes they've lost the Dracs. His instincts tell him they have, but there's always a chance and he doesn't want to risk Stiles like that.

He doesn't have a choice.

* * *

Dawn is breaking as Stiles follows Derek deeper into the desert to what he can only think of as a compound. There’s a piecemeal fence around it, made of boards and chain-link and barbed wire, and someone has to open a gate to let them through. Inside the fence are a couple of buildings, the biggest of them a house that spreads out all along the north edge of the compound. It looks like it’s been added to quite a lot over time due to necessity and not aesthetics.

Derek parks and Stiles parks beside him. Several people come walking out of the surrounding buildings, all dressed colorfully, all looking at Stiles. Some of them look suspicious of him, but mostly people just look curious. They’re almost all his age, some older, none younger. Derek nods at one guy and gets a nod back. Then Derek is walking over to Stiles and putting a hand at his back. He speaks, but not very loud. Stiles is sure the others can’t hear him, but they nod when he says, “He’s a guest, so don’t break him.” 

Then Stiles gets it. This is Derek's pack. They're probably all werewolves here. He swallows and hopes they listen to their Alpha and don't break Stiles. 

There's a blur of motion to the side and then someone is barrelling into him. 

"Stiles, man, oh my god," they say.

" _Scott_?" Stiles asks, pulling back from the hug to get a good look at his best friend. His hair is different (blond streaks!), his clothes are different (bright colors everywhere!), but the wide smile is unmistakable. Stiles grins back and then hugs him tightly. "Missed you."

"How's my mom?" is the first thing Scott asks.

Stiles suddenly feels bad for not keeping in touch with Mrs. McCall as well as he should have. "Last I heard, she was still working at the hospital. She misses you, but she's doing okay."

"And your dad?" Scott asks. 

Stiles feels a shudder go through him. "I don't know."

Scott tilts his head, looking like he's about to ask what Stiles means. Someone comes up behind him and claps Scott on the shoulder first, distracting him.

"Gonna introduce us, Pup?" asks a pretty girl with long blonde hair. She smiles at Stiles with deep red lips. 

"Sure," Scott says. "Stiles, this is Mayhem Mary. Mayhem, Stiles."

"Good to meet you," Stiles mumbles, looking around for Derek. He's standing on the edge of the dusty courtyard, near the house. He's watching Stiles, probably listening to everything. For some reason, Stiles finds that more reassuring than unsettling. He shoots Derek a small smile and goes back to looking at Mayhem. 

She's watching him closely, too. "You know our Alpha pretty well, then? He trusts you enough to bring you here."

Stiles feels his face heat and hopes the other detox symptoms cover his blush. "I helped him once."

"Must have been a big deal," Mayhem presses.

Stiles shrugs. He knows Derek is listening and he doesn't want to dredge up painful memories, and sharing that part of Derek's life isn't his place.

"Knock it off," Scott says. "Leave him alone."

Mayhem bares her teeth at him and surprisingly Scott just keeps staring at her. His eyes glow gold and Mayhem snorts. "Fine," she says, and then she saunters away.

"This is I- Um, Gravedigger," Scott says, introducing another werewolf.

Gravedigger is lanky and has curls and big eyes. He's ridiculously good looking, and when Stiles thinks about it, so are the rest of the people milling around the yard curiously.

"What's with the names?" Stiles asks.

Gravedigger smiles. "We're killjoys." Whatever that means. "You'll see."

More people come up to Stiles and their names fly through his head. Vile Vanity. Tank Toxic. Cyanide Ride.

Then the most beautiful strawberry blonde _goddess_ Stiles has ever seen introduces herself as Ace of Blades. "I'm human," she tells him, studying him closely. Stiles can't think of anything to say. He's rarely been so tongue-tied in front of someone before. 

Vile Vanity steps close to her. "She's mine."

Ace shoves him half-heartedly and rolls her eyes. "Wolves can be so possessive."

"A human in a wolfpack? I mean, are you part of the pack?" Stiles asks when he remembers how to speak. Sure, he'd been part of Scott's pack, but that was necessity back then. 

Ace raises a perfect brow. "Of course. The Alpha let me in once I proved my resourcefulness. Plus, Vanity would have left the pack if I wasn't allowed."

It gives Stiles a little hope. Maybe Derek will let him stay even though he's human.

His stomach gives a little swoop as he thinks of Derek again. But then he feels overwhelmed by the crowd suddenly, his stomach doing more than swooping. More like a barrell roll. 

There's a hand on his shoulder then, Derek at his back, leaning to speak into his ear. "You alright?"

"Missing my pills," Stiles says quietly.

Derek scowls. "BLI designs them to make you numb and compliant. You don't need that shit. You're free, now."

Stiles looks around and wonders if freedom really looks like a werewolf compound in the middle of a slightly radioactive desert.

"C'mon inside, we'll get you some breakfast and you can tell me why you had to run," Derek says.

The thought of food makes Stiles feel even worse. "Can't eat."

"You've got to put something on your stomach or you'll regret it. You need to keep your strength up," Derek says.

Stiles looks up, sees the other werewolves watching them with something like disbelief on their faces. Like maybe they aren't used to seeing their Alpha act like this, though Stiles doesn't think he's acting strange. The wolves look away when he catches them, though. Stiles says, "Something bland?"

"Yeah," Derek says, and leads him into the big house.

* * *

"Thanks for not saying anything about how you helped me. How you found me," Derek says uncomfortably as Stiles eats some rice.

Stiles looks up, eyes big and brown. "They don't know about..."

"About how BLI killed my family and tortured me?" Derek asks wryly. "No. Except Peter — Cyanide Ride. He's my uncle, I told him everything. And of course Scott knows."

"I won't tell anyone," Stiles says.

"You've grown up," Derek says suddenly, because he's noticed and it seems important. Stiles is an adult now, not just a scared kid doing his best to do the right thing.

Stiles pushes his unfinished bowl aside. "Had to," he says with a shrug.

"What happened?" Derek asks.

"They tracked the website," Stiles says, making a face. "Dad figured it out in time to warn me."

"You're worried about him," Derek says.

Stiles lets out a loud breath. "Fuck yes, I'm worried," he says. "They won't leave him alone now, I'm sure they won't believe he didn't have a clue, even though he _didn't_. Not when Mom, and then me..." He scrubs at his face with his hands and shakes. It's not cold, so it's either emotion or the detox. Or both.

"Don't blame yourself," Derek says. He feels helpless, not an emotion he particularly likes.

"How can I _not_?" Stiles asks. "I was... I was irresponsible. I should have thought about Dad."

Derek reaches across the table and touches Stiles's hand. "You were doing what you felt was right. There's no wrong in that."

Stiles stares at him. "You really believe that."

"Yeah. How many lives did you save?" Derek asks. "Dozens. Hundreds, maybe."

Stiles shakes his head but he doesn't offer an argument.

"And you did it all while you were being drugged," Derek says. "That's pretty amazing."

"I didn't take all of the pills I was prescribed," Stiles says. "The big white ones made me feel like the walking dead so I usually left those off."

"Still," Derek says gruffly. "You were on enough that you're slamming down now." He doesn't want to admit it, but he's worried. "How about a hot shower?"

"I'm pretty dizzy. You gonna hold me up?" Stiles jokes.

It makes Derek worry even more. "If I have to."

Stiles flushes. "I was kidding. I can do it. Point me in the right direction."

* * *

After his shower, Stiles collapses on the nearest bed wearing only a pair of boxers. He gets under the covers because he starts shivering again. His head is pounding now, a new symptom he's not too happy with.

Derek comes into the room and looks at him. "Did the shower help?"

"Not really," Stiles says. "I feel like shit but at least I don't stink anymore."

"You didn't stink," Derek murmurs, coming to sit at Stiles's side on the bed.

"God, my head," Stiles says, trying to massage his temples. It's not working.

"I could get you a cool cloth, or ask Lydia if she has any pain relievers," Derek says. 

"Who's Lydia?" Stiles asks.

"Ace of Blades," Derek says.

"She's beautiful," Stiles says. "How'd a jerk like Vanity end up with perfection like her?"

"I guess he's just her type," Derek says, and the tone of his voice is odd. Colder than before.

Stiles opens his eyes wider and looks at Derek. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Derek says. Lies, actually, and how Stiles can tell he's lying he doesn't know, but it's definitely an untruth.

A half-formed idea floats through Stiles's mind, something about jealousy, but he's too tired and headachey and shivery to really pay attention to it.

"Derek?" Stiles says. "I feel like shit. Will you-" _come here and hold me like you did last night_ flits through his mind, but there's no way he's saying it out loud.

Derek lays a heavy hand on Stiles's forehead and even though it's hot it feels good. But then suddenly his head doesn't hurt anymore, as if the pain has been drained away.

"Did you do that?" Stiles asks, feeling almost drugged with relief.

"Yeah. I can take pain away sometimes," Derek says.

"Does it hurt you?" Stiles asks.

"No," Derek answers. His hand is still on Stiles's forehead. 

Stiles wraps his hand around Derek's wrist gently, just to hold him there in case he was thinking of moving. "Maybe I can get some rest now," Stiles says, and then he starts to shake again. "Dammit."

"Want another blanket?" Derek asks.

"Will you...?" Stiles says, and moves over, giving Derek room if he wants to lie down. "I mean, if you want."

Derek looks at him for a long moment. Then he starts shedding his clothes.

Stiles picks his head up to watch. Derek takes off his jacket and hangs it on the door, then takes his boots off. His bandana comes off next, and the holster for his weapon. 

When Derek takes his shirt off, Stiles's mouth goes dry. He's really in no shape whatsoever to be getting turned on, and it's not like Derek is giving him a show on purpose, but...

But Stiles's hands itch to touch the beautifully muscled body, the smooth expanse of skin. If he wasn't shivering so badly from detoxing, he'd probably be shaking with want.

Derek slides into bed when he's shed everything but his boxer briefs, and he pulls Stiles against him, his entire body a welcome heat. "This what you want?"

Yes, Stiles thinks. This is everything he wants. He nods and closes his eyes, his head pillowed on Derek's shoulder.

* * *

Derek stays awake while Stiles's rests. He can't seem to pull himself away from the boy-turned-man, though. Stiles is warm and smells amazing under the slowly fading taint of BLI medication. The way Stiles is lying in Derek's arms feels right, feels whole. Like he belongs there and nowhere else on earth.

Derek blinks at himself. He's not the romantic type, so he's not sure where these thoughts are coming from. It's just that he knows, without a doubt, that he can trust Stiles. And trust in the Zones is hard to come by. Sure, he trusts his pack, to a point, but not like this.

There's something about Stiles he doesn't understand. A something he knows is there, but can't put his finger on. Something that connects them.

Perhaps it was Stiles saving his life when he'd lost everything.

So maybe Derek holds him a little too tightly, because Stiles stirs awake. He blinks up at Derek and it seems like he might pull away, but then he smiles and it reaches his beautiful honey-brown eyes and Derek can't help but smile back.

"How do you feel?" Derek asks.

Stiles stretches out and it makes Derek's cock twitch and try to harden. There's no mistaking Stiles for a boy now. Derek wants to kiss him. 

"Better. Much better," Stiles says with a sleep-rough voice. Derek doesn't know whether to consider the sound adorable or sexy. Maybe adorably sexy. Sexily adorable? Stiles gives him a look. "What are you thinking about? You've got a-" He reaches out and touches the wrinkle between Derek's brows.

Derek grabs his hand and presses it against his face. Stiles's eyes widen and his mouth drops open.

"You-" he says, but doesn't finish his sentence when Derek kisses his palm.

"I've got a satellite setup, you can call your dad," Derek says.

Stiles is still staring at him. "Okay," he says. "Are we-"

"I got you some clothes earlier," Derek says, releasing Stiles's hand. Is that disappointment on his face? Derek's not sure what Stiles had been going to say, but Derek isn't ready for any kind of conversation about his feelings, especially when he doesn't know what they are.

Just that his chest gets tight thinking about Stiles anywhere but by his side, among other things.

Derek rolls out of bed and throws his clothes on, then grabs the clothes he selected from around the compound. Stuff he knows will fit Stiles perfectly. 

"Whoa, colors," Stiles says when Derek presents the pile to him. "Lots of red, huh?"

"You look good in red," Derek says gruffly. "Get dressed and I'll take you to the setup." He goes into the bathroom and shuts the door to give Stiles privacy.

* * *

Stiles tries calling his dad's cell first. He knows it's a risky move, but if everything is fine, his dad will answer the phone and it'll be okay.

He also knows that if BLI has his dad and are tracking Stiles, they'll try to trace his calls.

Derek tells him his satellite setup is untraceable, thanks to a friend of the pack named Fair Warning. 

The call goes directly to voicemail, his dad's voice saying he's unavailable and will return the call as soon as he can. Stiles hangs up. His dad never turns his phone off. It didn't ring long enough to be anything else.

Stiles swallows hard. Derek comes behind him and puts a hand in the middle of Stiles's back. Not pushing or rubbing or anything, just _there_. It calms Stiles down just enough to let him think.

He calls a neighbor next. She answers the phone, and Stiles never noticed how flat her voice was before. How monotone. Bland, full of BLI meds. Stiles asks her if she's seen his dad. She has. Two days ago, S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W agents came and took him away. She hasn't seen him since.

Stiles hands the phone back to Derek and sits down as soon as he can in a swivel chair next to the setup.

"Breathe," Derek says. "Slow, c'mon, you can do this."

It takes some time, but Stiles finally gets himself back under control. Derek doesn't leave him, keeps speaking to him gently, coaxing him through the panic attack until he's out the other end of it.

"I have to go back," Stiles says finally.

Derek frowns. "You just got out. If they catch you..."

"I don't even want to think of what they're doing to him," Stiles says. He wants to gag at the thought.

Derek doesn't say, _You don't even know if he's alive_ but Stiles knows he's thinking it.

* * *

Stiles is still freaking out, but Derek does his best to keep him calm. The easiest way is to distract him, so he says, "So we need to figure out a name for you. A killjoy name."

"Yeah, what's with those, anyway?" Stiles asks.

"BLI has spies and drones everywhere. Little cameras and recording devices in things that look like flies. They don't work so well out here because of the radiation, but they work enough. Fair Warning told us they run their recordings through something that picks out certain words, so we come up with codes and names. It started out like that, anyway. Now it's..." Derek stops, not knowing how to explain.

"Like a rite of passage? A way to fit in?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah," Derek says. "And it's a tribute to the original Killjoys."

"Who are they?" Stiles asks, but Derek doesn't want to get into all that now. 

"I'll tell you later," Derek says, eyeing Stiles. 

"So how do I get a killjoy name?" Stiles asks. "Do I just think of something?"

"Let me," Derek says. He wants to give him a fierce name, one that'll make hunters think twice and waveheads back off. Red something. Red like his hoodie, like the blood he'd spill if it comes to that. Red because there's an old fairytale about a big bad wolf that makes Derek smile. "Red Reaper."

Stiles mouths the word like he's committing it to memory. Then he smiles. "Yeah. I like that."

* * *

Stiles is wearing an old black and yellow Batman shirt under his red motorcycle jacket. His faded jeans are tight like they were painted on, but they're soft, not uncomfortable. He's got on scuffed red leather boots that reach his calf. When he looks into the mirror, it's like seeing a different person. Red Reaper.

"Here," Derek says, handing over a red and black striped bandana. "The dust is a killer."

Stiles takes it and ties it around his neck. "How do I look?"

Derek grins. "Like a killjoy."

* * *

"I'll take you to the trading center first thing tomorrow," Derek says. He'll get in touch with Danny then, see if they can figure out what happened to Stiles's father. 

"Why?" Stiles asks. He smells like exhaustion and anxiety. Derek wants to touch him, soothe him until the scent is gone and he only smells like Stiles and Derek. Like _them_.

He puts his hands on Stiles's shoulders and rubs. "I know someone who can help."

"About my dad, you mean?" Stiles asks, and relaxes a little into Derek's touch. "Keep doing that. That's really good." His stomach rumbles.

"You need to eat," Derek says. "You've barely had a thing since you got here."

"Too nervous to eat," Stiles says, dropping his head when Derek rubs the back of his neck.

"You won't be any good to anyone if you're starving to death," Derek says.

Stiles sighs but he lets Derek lead him to the kitchen to eat some stew and crackers.

"Tell me about the trading center?" Stiles asks.

Derek smiles. "You have to see it to understand. Everybody in the Zones comes together to sell and trade. There's music, too. Not like a concert, but just individuals playing. It's really got to be experienced."

"Sounds good," Stiles says, finishing his bowl of stew. "I'm so full now. This is good stuff."

"We're also going to see a show after we get our business out of the way," Derek says. 

"A show?" Stiles asks, eyes widening.

Derek grins. "Have you heard of Mad Gear and Missile Kid?"

"Show Pony mentioned them before," Stiles says. "Apparently they're pretty shiny."

"They haven't played live in about a year or so," Derek says. "So the show will be packed. You've got to promise to stay near me." The thought of losing Stiles to the crowd makes Derek's wolf growl possessively. 

"Sticking close isn't a hardship," Stiles says. He sounds shy. Derek wants to pin him against the nearest flat surface and- "Derek?"

"Yeah," Derek says. 

"You just had this really intense look on your face. Want to tell me what you were thinking about?" Stiles asks.

"I want you to stay," Derek blurts. "Here. With the pack. With _me_."

Stiles smiles. "You mean that?"

"Yes," Derek says. He wants more than that, but he doesn't know how to put it into words.

Maybe he'll figure it out eventually.

* * *

The trading center is like a carnival. Stiles has never seen a carnival in real life, but he's read about them and seen pictures. This, though. This is noisy and crowded and full of _life_. Colors are everywhere, so bright and cheerful that Stiles feels like he's on another planet. Surely this isn't the same world that contains dull, monochrome BLI. 

Derek stops when they go through the gate, trading in a box full of stuff and getting a fistful of little blue paper tickets.

Derek lets Stiles look around for a bit before pulling him in one particular direction. They stop in front of a nondescript booth with only one seller. There are some computer parts scattered on the table.

"Red Reaper, this is Fair Warning," Derek says, and Stiles has a moment of 'what the fuck?' before he realizes Derek's talking to him. 

So Stiles sticks out his hand and shakes. Fair Warning is his age, maybe a little older. He's wearing blue, even in his hair. After they shake, Stiles runs a hand over his own short hair and wonders if he should do something with it. Grow it out, at least. 

He wonders if Derek would like that. 

"We need some information on a man in Bat City. He was taken by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W three days ago," Derek says.

Fair Warning frowns at both of them, then shrugs. "Your wish is my command," he says. Stiles wonders what kind of deal they have going between them because Derek doesn't offer any of his tickets. "Got an ID number? It'll search faster than a name." He hands Stiles a yellow piece of paper and the stub of a pencil. Stiles writes as neatly as he can and adds 'John Stilinski' there too, just in case.

When Fair Warning gets the paper back, he nods. "I'll hack in tonight, give you what I find tomorrow?"

"Okay," Derek says gruffly. 

Derek and Stiles drift toward some music. There's clapping and violin and guitar and something else, a rhythmic thumping. When they get closer, they see a woman slapping buckets as percussion. It's amazing.

Stiles grins when he recognizes the violinist. His name is Henry Polk, and Stiles helped him get out of Battery City a year before. 

When the music ends, there's cheers all around. It's boisterous and happy, and Stiles thinks, yeah, he can get used to this.

Henry looks up and scans the crowd. Stiles waits to see if he'll wave when he sees him. But no, Henry's eyes get wide and he stands up from his box and starts walking over.

Derek, for some reason or another, takes this as some kind of threat and stands in front of Stiles like Henry's going to hurt him or something. Stiles rolls his eyes and taps Derek on the shoulder. 

"Calm down, big guy," he says, and takes a step around him.

"Stiles? Is that really you?" Henry asks. "Son of a bitch, it is!" And then he's hugging Stiles and Derek is growling and it's just ridiculous.

Henry lets go at the growling and takes a cautious step away. Stiles smacks Derek in the chest. "Cool it. This is Henry, I helped him out about a year ago."

"I'm just Violins now," Henry says. "You know, violence, violins?"

Stiles grins. "Pretty cool. I'm, uh, Red Reaper." It still feels weird to say that.

"Shiny," Henry says, and Stiles wonders how the slang in the Zones came to be, if it's all just made up or if they got it from somewhere else.

"It's good to see you. Good to know you're doing okay out here," Stiles says. "You play... it was amazing."

Henry grins and shrugs. "It's my life."

"C'mon Stiles," Derek whispers. "We've still got one more stop before the show."

"Sorry, man, gotta run," Stiles says to Henry.

Henry looks understanding. "You ever need anything, and I mean _anything_ , you let me know, okay?"

Stiles doesn't know what to say to that and is still shaking his head when Derek leads him away. "Where'd we have to go, again?"

"You need a gun," Derek says.

"Huh. Okay, I guess out here I do," Stiles says. 

"And some practice with it before the show," Derek adds.

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "You're expecting trouble at a concert? I thought music out here was all about the freedom and peace and love or something."

"Scott is meeting his girlfriend there," Derek says, like this will explain everything.

"And...?"

They come to a brightly painted stall filled with rayguns. Most of them are white, BLI issue. A few of them are painted brightly, but those are on the far wall, away from the customer. There's a sign, though, "Free Custom Paint Job With Every Purchase".

"And her family hates werewolves," Derek says. "Think about what color you want while I pick something out for you."

Stiles gives him a look, because obviously Derek is crazy. King Crazy. "I can pick out my own gun, thanks." He turns to the amused vendor and asks to see the Viridian and Tesla models.

Stiles picks them up, notes the lightness (no batteries in them) spins one in his palm. It's been awhile since he's held a gun, but they feel pretty right to him. The Viridian is known to be better for long-range shooting, though it'll shoot someone dead just fine up close and personal. The good thing about it is that it usually just stuns unless the shot is to the head. That's cool. Stiles really isn't into out and out murder.

"I'll take the Viridian. Yellow with pink and black accents, like that one," Stiles points to a painted gun on the wall.

The vendor whistles. "Not too many people have the balls to get that one."

Stiles frowns and looks at Derek.

"It's a replica of Party Poison's gun," Derek says. Like that explains everything. He's a master at doling out crumbs of information and expecting that to be that.

Stiles sighs. "Tell me later."

"Give me a few to paint this up," the vendor says. "We'll have you loud and proud in no time."

"How did you know so much about the guns?" Derek asks as they walk away. "Are you hungry?"

Stiles shrugs. "Grew up around them. My dad taught me to shoot, said it was safer than not knowing. And yeah, I could eat."

Derek buys two bowls of something he calls chili with two of his tickets. It's a reddish brown and has beans and some kind of meat in it (Stiles doesn't want to think too hard about what kind it might be). It's delicious, though. Spicy. Stiles doesn't know what to do with spicy. His eyes water and his nose runs but it's so good he doesn't care.

Once they get back to the gun man, Stiles has a fully functional Viridian laser pistol in his hand and he doesn't have to be told the batteries are loaded because he can tell by the heft of it. 

"So you can shoot?" Derek asks after he pays for the gun with what looks like the rest of his tickets.

Stiles grins. "Sure can. Point me at a target."

* * *

He knew the show would be crowded, but he hadn't anticipated just how much. Stiles vibrates with excitement beside him. When MGMK come on stage and when the music starts, Stiles's eyes go wide and even in the crowd and through the music, Derek can hear his heart thumping along faster and faster. 

Stiles does as he promised and sticks close, but Derek presses against his back and holds onto his hips just in case. Stiles moves with the music and even picks up some of the lyrics, screaming/singing back to the band,"Fuck This Whole Wide World!"

Derek can't help but lick at the sweat that shines at the back of Stiles's neck. It's perfect, a nice clean salty taste that makes him want to use his blunt teeth against Stiles's sensitive skin. So he does. Stiles shivers and even with people pressed all around, Derek can still pick up on the scent of his arousal. 

But Derek has to keep an eye on Scott, too. His girlfriend is an Argent and even though she's going by a killjoy name now — Bullseye Sharp — it's still not a good idea to get involved with her.

Scott and Allison are dancing a few feet away from Derek and Stiles, so they're safe for the moment. Derek's eyes scan the crowd for Argents, but so far none have shown themselves.

Derek goes back to sucking a bruise into the skin at Stiles's nape. Stiles reaches up and threads his fingers through Derek's hair, holding him where he is. Derek's wolf is rolling around happy because Derek is marking his ma-

There's tension in the air suddenly and Derek snaps back, not knowing where it's coming from. He scans the crowd for danger, pushing through, holding Stiles, until they're closer to Scott and Allison.

"Where?" Derek asks, and Allison's eyes are wide, fixed across the room. Derek follows her gaze and sees the girl's aunt. Kate Argent is standing on the sidelines and she's smiling.

It's enough to give Derek the creeps.

"We're out of here," he says to Scott, and Scott nods. 

"Take me with you," Allison says to them.

Derek knows it would endanger his whole pack to bring Allison into the fold. Scott is looking at him with big pleading eyes, but Derek shakes his head. "Not without an agreement from your family that they won't attack us."

Allison nods. "Yeah, I figured. I'll talk to them." She doesn't sound too optimistic.

Scott kisses her goodbye and then they're going. As they leave, Derek sees Allison make her way over to her aunt. He winces. Kate Argent isn't someone he'd want to be related to.

* * *

Stiles wakes up slowly, feeling Derek's eyes on him. He opens his eyes and smiles. "Hey, creeper."

"Stiles," Derek says, and something in his voice makes Stiles sit up and frown. 

"What's wrong?"

"Danny — Fair Warning contacted me this morning over the radio. It's about your father," Derek says.

Stiles swallows hard. He suddenly feels shaky, like he felt when he first went off his meds. "Tell me."

Derek sits beside him on the bed, looking serious. "He was taken to a rehabilitation facility."

Nodding, Stiles says, "Okay. Okay." He tries to breathe. His dad is alive, it's going to be alright. "I have to get him out."

Derek wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. "You can't. You'll get killed."

"I got you out," Stiles says, trying hard not to melt into Derek's arms. He's just so... strong. And solid. Warm, too. 

"That was a fluke, and they've upgraded their systems since then, to keep it from happening again," Derek says.

"He's my _dad_ ," Stiles whispers.

"Okay. Say you figured out a way in, how are you going to get him out without anyone seeing?" Derek asks. "Because... because the last Killjoys who went into Bat City on a rescue mission got ghosted."

Stiles picks his head up from Derek's chest. "Friends of yours?"

Derek shakes his head. "No. Legends, more like. The original Killjoys."

"You mentioned a name before, Party-something?" Stiles asks.

"Party Poison. Yeah," Derek says. "I don't know the details, only they went after someone who meant a lot to BLI. They got her out, but they got killed in the process."

Stiles frowns. "When did this happen?" 

"A few years ago," Derek says. 

"What made them legends?" Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. "They were outlaws, caused a lot of trouble for BLI before they made it out to the Zones." He smiles. "Kinda like you."

Stiles snorts. 

Derek gets serious again. "I don't want you getting killed."

"I don't want me getting killed, either," Stiles mumbles. He rests his forehead on Derek's shoulder. Derek strokes his back, up and down, until Stiles feels a little less tight in the chest area.

Then Derek picks his head up suddenly, like he hears something.

"What is it?" Stiles asks.

Derek shakes his head. "I don't know yet. Someone's coming. Stay here."

And then he just leaves Stiles there.

"Oh, fuck that," Stiles mutters angrily, and gets out of bed to throw on some clothes. He doesn't have a holster for his gun yet, so he tucks it into the waistband of his jeans, near the small of his back.

When he gets outside, he sees the werewolves are not so happy. They are a grumpy, snarling bunch, all of them facing the gate like the threat is right outside. Stiles sidles up to Gravedigger and whispers, "What's going on?"

Gravedigger looks at him and says, "Pup's girlfriend's aunt. We call her Little Arson Annie."

"Oh. That doesn't sound good. What's she want?"

"She's asking to speak with Pup," Gravedigger says.

Stiles walks up to Scott and slaps his arm. "Don't go out there."

"Maybe they want to make a truce," Scott says, his expression hopeful. "Like. Maybe they don't want to fight it anymore, because they know me and Allison are mates."

Stiles frowns over the word 'mates'. He's heard the term, he went into research-all-the-werewolves mode after Scott got bit. He thought mates were a myth, but Scott says it so earnestly Stiles obviously needs to reevaluate. "How many are out there?"

Derek joins them and says, "There are three men with her."

"Doesn't sound like she came just to talk, Scott," Stiles says.

"We're werewolves; it's not like she knew for sure she wouldn't get attacked," Scott says.

"Don't-" Derek says. "You have no idea what she's capable of."

"She might really want peace, though," Scott says. He nods, seemingly to himself. "I'm going out there."

Stiles gapes. "God, you're an even bigger idiot now than when you were a kid. How is that even possible?"

But Scott looks unmoved. Derek looks like he wants to stop him, but then he sighs. "I'll have Tank and Mayhem watching from over the gate."

Scott nods and starts walking toward the entrance. Derek makes a couple of hand movements and the other wolves move to do what he wants.

"Is there a back door?" Stiles asks. "Because there's no way I'm letting him go out there without backup."

Derek tilts his head. "Yes. I'm going with you."

Derek and Stiles split up and approach the front of the compound at either side. It's fortunate they're there because almost as soon as Scott comes into view, the woman sticks him in the ribs with something black, must be a taser. She stands over him, smug grin on her face, and douses him with gasoline. 

Stiles shoots her before she can light Scott on fire. She goes down; Stiles is sure she's only stunned. Derek runs forward and takes down one of the men while Stiles shoots the other two. It's as easy as shooting paper targets in the backyard with his dad.

Stiles holds out a hand to Scott and Scott scowls. 

"So much for peace," Derek growls.

Scott gets on his feet again and wipes gasoline off his face with his shirt tail. "What do we do with them?"

Stiles walks over to the psycho who just tried to light his best friend on fire. He kicks her side to see if she's really out or just faking. "I dunno."

"We take them back to the Argents," Derek says, even though he looks like he'd much rather rip their throats out. "They have a code, and these weren't following it. Hopefully they'll get punished."

The woman groans and starts to push herself up from the ground. Stiles kicks her again, hard this time. "Guess I know why she's called Little Arson Annie."

"Her real name's Kate. She tried to do the same thing to Peter awhile back," Derek says. "He wasn't completely in control at the time, so she had an excuse. But this is just her not wanting her niece with Scott."

Kate rolls over onto her back and glares up at Stiles. "Another human in the wolfpack. Disgusting."

Stiles points his gun at her nose, practically vibrating with the need to kill her after she just tried to kill Scott. "Just give me a reason to shoot you again, you psycho. At this range, and to the face? It'll be more than a little stun."

"Reaper," Derek says in a low voice. 

Stiles startles out of his sudden bloodthirst. Reaper. That's him. "Yeah?" he asks, not moving his gun.

"I want to kill her, too. But we can't, not without the Argents targeting us," Derek says.

Stiles gives Kate a fake smile and says, "I guess it's your lucky day. But if you ever, _ever_ fuck with us again, I won't care about the aftermath."

Scott chooses that moment to hit Kate with her own taser. 

Derek pulls Stiles close to him then, and Stiles shifts his focus from the woman on the ground. Derek's eyes are hazel at first but then they glow red. Stiles is vaguely aware of Scott moving away, giving them privacy. He's not sure what's going on, why Derek is looking at him the way he is. 

"Did I say something wrong?" Stiles asks.

Derek shakes his head, eyes fixed on Stiles's face and still glowing.

They're close now, only inches apart, and Derek's hands are pulling him closer. Stiles thinks, _do I finally get a kiss?_ but then instead of going for his mouth, Derek is burying his face in Stiles's neck and pulling in deep breaths.

"Okay, yeah, I know I smell delicious and all, but this is... is this normal? For you? Do you smell other people a lot?" Stiles asks, feeling nervous.

"You protected the pack," Derek says in a low voice.

"Yeah?" Stiles says, not knowing what the big deal is.

Derek rests his head on Stiles's shoulder. "That was good."

Stiles hadn't realized it, but he's been rubbing Derek's back and running his hand through the hair at the back of his head. He stops for a moment when he realizes it, but Derek grunts and Stiles goes back to it. It's good. Maybe he can have this.

He's about to ask for a kiss — he's working up his nerve to bring it up — when Derek straightens suddenly and says, "We'll get your father. Together."

Stiles blinks at the sudden change of subject. "Okay. Okay. Thanks."

Derek opens his mouth like he's going to say something else, but then he nods. Stiles smiles at him. It's okay if he's not as good with his words as Stiles is. Stiles can talk enough for them both.

* * *

Derek knows it took Stiles forever to fall asleep. He was too wired and worried about tomorrow to rest right away. Derek watches him for some long minutes, memorizing the way his chest rises and falls with every breath, the way the corner of his mouth twitches in his sleep. Sometimes it goes up, like he's going to smile, but mostly his mouth is quirking down, unsettled even in his dreams.

Their plan is solid. They got all the specs from Danny and they know exactly what they're getting themselves into. It'll just be the three of them: Derek, Stiles, and Scott. They're the ones with the most recent familiarity with the city, and they have the most invested in the plan.

Derek has been trying to forget just how invested he is, but it's not working.

He slips his arm away from Stiles and gets out of bed. He throws on a pair of jeans and goes looking for Peter. He doesn't have to look far.

Peter's on the front porch steps of the main house, looking up at the sky. "The full moon is coming in just a few days."

"I know," Derek says. He sighs and sits beside Peter on the steps.

"You don't seem afraid of getting caught on this little adventure of yours," Peter says. "Stiles must mean a lot to you if you're going to risk BLI again."

Derek swallows and finally admits what he's suspected since he first met Stiles. "I think he's my mate."

Peter turns and looks at him, then tips his head back and laughs. It's short, but genuine. "I know."

"How?" Derek asks.

"The way you talked about him after you met him. The way you continued to think of him, even after two years." Derek is about to argue with him, because how could he possibly know what Derek's been thinking? But Peter says, "Don't think I don't know that look on your face. The Stiles look."

"The Stiles look," Derek says flatly. He thought he'd done a good job of keeping his thoughts to himself.

"The whole pack felt your excitement when you found out he was here in the Zones," Peter says. "You've never reacted to anyone the way you react to Stiles."

Derek takes this in, looking away, nodding. "I didn't think mates were real."

"We're losing ourselves, our heritage," Peter spits out. "BLI has taken everything from us. They're killing us all, and then... then there won't be any of us left to carry on."

Derek waits for Peter's anger to tamp down again. 

"Stiles is your mate," Peter says after a few tense minutes. "You're not wrong."

"I don't know how to tell him," Derek says. 

"You'll figure it out," Peter says. "Just trust your instincts." He goes back inside.

Derek can hear Stiles's heartbeat and knows he's awake. "Did I wake you?" he asks when he gets back into bed.

Stiles shakes his head. "Stressed. Worried."

"Roll over on your front and I'll rub your back," Derek says.

"You'll give me a massage?" Stiles asks, sounding delighted. He sits up and shucks off his shirt before twisting and practically bouncing onto his stomach. "Massage meeeee."

Derek can't help but smile. "That's the plan."

He doesn't have a lot of experience with intimate gestures, but Stiles makes him want to do things like this. He can feel where the muscles are too tight beneath his hands, and he works to loosen them. After a little while, Stiles starts to moan softly and the scent of arousal slowly fills the air. Derek smiles and leans down to kiss Stiles's shoulder.

"I need to talk to you," Derek says. Best to do it while Stiles is relaxed and feeling good.

"Mmm. Wha?" Stiles turns his head to frown at Derek. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Derek says. "It's about... werewolves."

Stiles puts his head back on his hands and says, "Okay. Talk. Just don't stop with the rubdown. It feels amazing."

"I like touching you," Derek admits quietly, running his thumbs down either side of Stiles's spine.

"Good," Stiles sighs. "Now, what about werewolves?"

"I know you heard what Scott said about Allison," Derek says.

"That they're mates? Yeah, that was weird. Everything I've ever found about it said it was just a myth."

"It's not," Derek says, running his hands up to massage Stiles's shoulders.

"God, that feels so good," Stiles moans.

Derek takes a deep breath and just goes for it. "You're my mate."

Stiles stiffens and says, "What?"

"You're it for me, Stiles," Derek says softly. He backs off, taking his hands away.

Stiles rolls onto his side and pushes Derek out of the way so he can flop on his back. His face is carefully blank. "What does that mean?"

Derek lies down beside him so he can be closer. He doesn't answer, just looks at him.

"Mates. As in, bonded for life, right?" Stiles says.

Nodding, Derek runs a hand down Stiles's arm.

"You haven't even kissed me yet and you're proposing?" Stiles asks, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth.

It hits Derek then that he loves Stiles. Before, it was just instinct and wolf and a drive to be with him. But he loves him. He leans in then and presses his lips against Stiles's.

It's a short, chaste kiss, or at least it's meant to be. Stiles practically flings himself at Derek and throws himself wholeheartedly into the kiss. Derek has to struggle to keep up for a moment, but then he growls and rolls on top of Stiles, taking control.

Before long they're both panting and straining against each other. When Derek backs off, he takes in Stiles's appearance. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are kiss-swollen. All around his mouth is pink from where Derek's stubble has scratched him. His eyes are wide and dark, and goddamn if he doesn't look like he belongs to Derek.

Then Stiles rolls his hips and Derek's done for.

It doesn't take long for them both to get off, one following the other over the edge as they rub and jerk together.

Stiles doesn't have any more trouble sleeping that night.

* * *

Getting in isn't hard. Their colors and rough looks against the sleek monochromatic color scheme of BLI make them stick out, but they shoot whoever gets in their way. 

A sign on their way into the facility proclaims _Everything is perfect. Keep smiling._ Stiles snorts. 

Fair Warning gave them excellent plans. They find the floor BLI is keeping Stiles's dad and then it's just a matter of tracking him down. Derek's nose comes in handy. Apparently Stiles still smells like his father a little, and Derek tracks him into a small room made for re-education. It's all white, sterile, and they find his dad strapped to a chair, clunky earphones and virtual-reality goggles on his head. He has electrodes on his forehead and chest.

They detach the wires and electrodes and get his face uncovered. He looks dazed and doesn't focus on their faces, which makes Stiles start to panic.

"Stiles," Derek says sharply. "We've got to move."

Move. Right. 

They go out a different way than they came in, but they meet resistance at the door. There are armed guards all in white, with BLI smiley masks on. They're soon joined by some Dracs.

Derek hands Stiles's dad over with a look that says, 'Just trust me.'

Then he shifts.

The guards and Dracs are unprepared for a fully shifted Alpha werewolf. Half of them scatter before the first swipe of claws. The remaining opposition is taken out quickly. Stiles doesn't even have to raise his own weapon; Derek does all the work. 

"Stiles?" his dad says, and Stiles tightens his grip on his father's arm slung around his neck.

"Yeah. It's okay. We're getting you out of here."

Just like that, the way is clear, and Derek and helping Stiles get his dad to the car. Derek is back to his human form and naked, but Stiles isn't focused on that. He's just worrying about his dad.

They've got a tail on them as they leave the city, but Derek's an excellent evader and Stiles shoots the ones they don't shake off. There's no dramatic car chase after the first half hour, and when Stiles can't see anyone else he lets out a sigh of relief and turns to his dad, who's sprawled out in the back seat.

"Dad?" Stiles asks.

He doesn't get an answer because his father is sound asleep.

* * *

Derek watches Stiles watch his father. They've set John up in one of the spare rooms, not too far away in case he needs someone.

John's behavior (once he woke) has been worrying. His memory seems cloudy, though he at least recognizes Stiles. He doesn't remember why he was in the facility, though.

He was only there a matter of days. Derek hates to think what would have happened had John been in the place for longer than that.

"You look like shit, son," John says from the bed, and Stiles smiles.

"You're not exactly at your best at the moment, either."

Derek smiles at them, says, "You could both use some rest."

"Go on," John says to Stiles.

When Derek and Stiles are wrapped up with each other in their bed, Derek doesn't point out that Stiles is holding on a little tight or that his breath is coming too fast.

"He's going to be okay," Stiles says to Derek, to himself.

"He's already better than he was when we found him," Derek points out.

Stiles holds on a little tighter. "Yeah."

Derek wants to comfort him, to give him what he needs, but he's not sure what that is. His instincts say to hold him, to kiss his neck, so he does. "We'll figure it out," he says. "Together. Trust me."

"I do," Stiles says. He's quiet after that, and Derek keeps holding him as his breath evens out and he falls asleep.

There's a fierce feeling welling up inside him, protectiveness and love, and he knows this is something worth fighting for.

* * *

Hale Compound, Zone 4  
2025

 

Stiles peeks into the nursery and smiles when he sees his dad with little Vicky on his lap in the rocking chair. Vicky's getting big now, old enough to point at the pictures in the book and name the characters. She looks like Allison but she's got Scott's eyes.

Right now Stiles's dad is saying, "...But the wild things cried 'Oh please don't go! We'll eat you up, we love you so!'" Vicky squirms and giggles when Stiles's dad pretends to gnaw on her hair, making 'nom nom' noises.

"More!" Vicky demands, slapping the book with a chubby hand.

Stiles grins affectionately and decides to leave them to it.

He finds Derek outside. He's been working on Stiles's Jeep, making sure she keeps running. It needs to be in good condition if they're going to keep on as they are.

They're picking up a new runner tonight, a freedom fighter out of Bat City. She's been in touch with Show Pony and Fair Warning for awhile now. Apparently after Stiles left the city, she picked up where he left off, smuggling 'undesirables' away from BLI and into the Zones.

Stiles likes that he's still helping the resistance. Sometimes he wishes there was more he could do, but Derek promises it'll happen one day. When they have enough of an army in the Zones and contacts on the inside, when BLI is least expecting it, then they'll strike.

Meanwhile, the pack is growing. Tank and Mayhem have been talking about having a kid, and Fair Warning asked for the bite a week ago. Stiles knows it makes Derek happy to have a larger, stable pack again. To regain some of what he lost at BLI's hands.

"Hey," Derek says, rolling out from under the repainted Jeep. It's yellow and blue now, matching Derek's Camaro.

Stiles smiles at him. "Hey. You've got black on your face." He leans down to wipe the grease away with his thumb, but Derek hauls him down on top of him for a kiss. Stiles laughs and kisses back, his heart full.

Derek pulls back and looks at him seriously. "You ready for tonight?"

"Yeah. You think she'll be coming in hot?" Stiles asks.

"We're prepared if she is," Derek says.

They've done this before, and fighting off Dracs is nothing by now. Stiles is a damned fine shot, Derek is excellent at getaway driving, and Stiles's dad is pretty amazing with planning these things from the get-go. It's a good system.

All in all, they'll come out shiny.

"You need a shower," Stiles points out. "We don't want to scare the poor woman. One look at you and she'll be running in the opposite direction." Which is bullshit, because Derek looks good no matter what, whether he's covered in axle grease or desert dust.

Derek looks Stiles up and down. "How 'bout you join me?"

Stiles grins. "I think I can do that."

He'll think about tonight later. Much later. Right now, he's got other things on his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story! Kudos and comments are much appreciated.


End file.
